


God Bless America

by rizlowwritessortof



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, F/M, No Smut, Smut-adjacent, dean drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 12:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15170894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizlowwritessortof/pseuds/rizlowwritessortof
Summary: Just a little Fourth of July drabble... :)





	God Bless America

 

You lie in bed, listening to the mostly distant rumble, crackle, bang and boom of fireworks beginning to fill the night air. The shower shuts off and you hear Dean in the bathroom, humming to himself, water in the sink as he brushes his teeth, sounds that make you feel safe, comfortable. The adrenaline from the earlier hunt has worn off, and you feel sleepy, warm and comfortable under the blankets, in spite of the air conditioner keeping the room a refrigerator-like temperature.

You hear him exit the bathroom, rustling around in his bag and then, finally, climbing into bed beside you. He spoons up behind you, nuzzling his nose into your neck, his breath warm as he kisses you there. “Sleeping?”

“Mmmm. Not yet,” you mumble, leaning back against him. “Wow, listen to the fireworks. They go all out around here.”

“Sounds like. Did you – you wanna go out, watch ‘em?”

You sigh contentedly. “Not really. I’d rather just stay in here with you.” You tilt your head back and smile up at him, and he bends to meet your lips with his.

“Good answer.” He kisses you again, soft, your lips clinging to his, sweet and lazy. He puts an arm around you, over yours and across your chest, his hand slipping into the neck of your worn-soft old t-shirt and over to gently hold the curve of your shoulder, his fingers tracing random patterns. “So soft,” he mutters against your lips, and his tongue teases at you, questing, until you open to him and he moans softly. “You know,” he whispers between kisses, “we can have our own little Fourth of July celebration right here.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smile languidly as his fingers stroke over your skin, moving to caress the upper swell of your breast.

“Oh, yeah. I can make you see fireworks, sweetheart. And I bet we can set off a few explosions in here.  If you want…”

“Dean Winchester, who knew you were so patriotic?”

“Aww, hell, baby – I’m already at attention and saluting. Ready to serve.”

His fingers were drifting farther south, and you were definitely feeling sparks. “You are one hell of a citizen, Winchester – and that’s one hell of a salute,” you whisper, pressing back against him and forcing a quiet groan from his lips.

“God bless America,” he growled softly before rolling you to your back and kissing your breath away. Oh, hell, yes. God bless America indeed.


End file.
